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The Truth of Brothers
His fist was harder than anything I’d ever felt. '' ''I was still a boy – this was before my father left us. We were at the summer house near the Flame Cliffs of Kutabi. Khaegor and I had begun wrestling, encouraged by my father’s friend and commander, Captain Qo’tat. It had begun harmless – Khaegor delighted in slapping my face until my cheeks were red. But with Qu’Tat watching, this time, I did not let it stand. The pride of a boy, too often beaten. I used my thumb, and jabbed it into my brother’s ear. To hear him tell it, I almost plucked his brain from his head, and the pain was almost unimaginable. I weighed less than a targ pup, I can’t imagine it hurt him. But the pride of an older brother, showing pain in front of a seasoned warrior… Within moments, he had me on my back. His fists fell like hammers. I felt the cartilage in my nose split. The bones in my jaw shattered. I tasted blood in my mouth, like hot iron. '' ''And then he got off me. Qo’Tat hadn’t said a word, hadn’t tried to stop him. I could see the grown man clutching his dak’tag, a hunger in his eyes – hungry for more pain. More suffering. '' ''My brother wiped my blood from his hands. He was done fighting. '' “''Get up little Azaram”, he told me. Not a command, or an order. Advice. '' “''Sto’Vo’Kor isn’t for little brothers who bleed in the dirt.” “''It is for little brothers who never give up.” '' * Korath,Azaram. Personal Logs '' '---//--}}- the truth of brothers-{{-\\--- ' Ariennye came back like she left –quietly. I didn’t ask where she’d been – she didn’t tell me. She came back with a Romulan ship sharp as a knife, and it was clear what friends she’d been visiting. I was disappointed to see she’d traded her Imperial greys for Tal Shiar all-black, but the look in her eye hadn’t changed. She’d missed an interesting time on the ship. After Bajor, Federation survivors outnumbering my own five to one. I haven’t met many Vulcans, any in fact, but the Federation commander Nezzak wasn’t what I would have expected. I had nothing for his men to do – they grew soft. Weeping in my mess hall. Drinking our blood wine. The federation Vulcan literally began slapping his lazy crew – he gained no friends, but he certainly gained some respect. 280 souls aboard a ship built for 90. We couldn’t have kept them from hearing about our way. Eating our food, listening to our drums… as the weeks past, the number of the Federation crewmen joining our morning prayers grew. Even the green blooded Nezzak started to bleed red. I’ve had these journals from my father. Science journals, built for men much smarter than me. I’d often looked at the diagrams, imaging that they held ancient secrets – Nezzak taught me that those secrets are called Submuminal Transphysics. Say what you want about the thin arms of the Federation – they work well when focused. We upgraded the Quv Vo’Kahless until she bristled for combat. A Klingon bird of prey with Romulan claws and Federation ears. A glorious mongrel. I wouldn’t say we had been waiting for her, but with Ariennye back on board the crew grew restless. It was time to move on. We could have gone a number of places - we chose Gamma Trianguli, the site of my brother’s last attack. Gamma Trianguli, a Klingon colony from the age of heroes, it’s been a Starfleet colony for the history of the Empire. A forward base there would cut the Federation in half – we needed to know what my brother planned. We warped in under cover of cloak – no one can find us when we’re cloaked. Two ships, the Qi and the ToQ Vo’Khaegor. Falcon of Kaegor, my brother’s flagship. General Qo’Tat in command – a brutal man, loyal to the House. Qu’Tat who let me bleed in the dirt. Only two ships however – the rest of the invasion fleet must have already moved on. Nezzak scanned the planet. Three sites – the Klingon forward position, a Federation colony in ruins, and some kind of cavern. If there were survivors, we owned them something. Klingon hands to clean up blood spilt by Klingons. But the two ships in orbit… there was a plan in place. Nezzak called it Visa Gold, and antiquated human reference. It installed a backdoor into an enemy’s computer system, giving us the ability to hack their communications, or shut down their shields at the flip of a switch. Not the most direct of attacks, but the survival of the Red Path has to be my concern. Ariennye offered our solution - she could board the enemy ship, undetected, and install the program into their systems. It sounded absurd… but she assured us that with her new stealth fighter, it was absolutely a possibility. With that, she was away. There was a Federation signal – “The Path is found. The secret of the sword must stay with me. They are coming and so, I must depart”. I know that voice – I’d heard him on transmissions, when the monks let us listen: Ambassador Worf. A good man, if cozy with the Federation. I could tell Nezzak was thrown by the death we found in the colony. I won’t lie, I was thrown as well. Bodies stacked like cordwood, burnt and brutalized. This was like something out of history. Klingon wrath like it used to be known. Violence as a calling card. Disgusting. The colony was built around a site – an ancient Klingon site, by the look of it. My ancient Klingon was rusty, but there was a word that stood out: “Morath”. Morath, brother of Kahless. Morath, the great deceiver. The man who betrayed Kahless, who Kahless fought for 12 days, who Kahless put in the ground on the ridge of the volcano R’am. Worf’s apartments were empty. We found the signal – a beacon from a ship called the Sisko. The message hadn’t changed, but Nezzak packed it up anyway. Ariennye reported back – she had disabled both ships, and gained a vital chunk of information: Qo’Tat was investigating the caverns, searching for some kind of artifact. In fact, the retrieval of the item seemed to be the entire focus of the remaining Klingon presence. It meant enough to bring my brother’s forces – whatever it was, we could not let them have it. Ariennye joined us outside the entrance to the caverns. Swarming with Klingon soldiers, we needed a distraction to make the cave entrance. With the backdoor installed in the enemy ships, I realized we had a way to draw the enemy, without any bloodshed. My time with Nezzak had softened me I supposed – I don’t know why I balked at bloodshed. I had him send both ships a signal, that there was an incoming Breen force– hopefully, they’d recall their soldiers and fly off, into the night. It didn’t work. Obviously, it didn’t work. We blew our advantage, and alerted to enemy to our presence. Sometimes, I remember that until a year ago, I hadn’t been aboard a star ship five times in my life. I made a strategic mistake, an idiot mistake. It won’t happen again. Nezzak, for all his intelligence, had the answer – run for it. We ran, Arrienye moving like a shadow in front of us. The Klingon forces saw us, opened fire – I’m fairly sure I was a shot, but there’s something about running for your life that makes shrugging off wounds second nature. We made the cave entrance – I used my disruptor to collapse the way behind us. A Romulan, a Vulcan, and a Klingon, trapped in a hole. If we survive this, the song will be hilarious. ------------//------------- Inside the caverns, we start moving. Ariennye found a map – there were three caves, multiple tunnels moving from site to site. Ariennye almost fell through a trap in the stone – Nezzak grabbed her, quicker then he seems. We split up. Nezzak and I came across two soldiers – we dropped them summarily. And then we met the targs. Three of them, hungry beasts, kept in one of the ships above us. Hungry for our meat. One locked its jaws on my thigh – I could feel my bones start to crack. There’s an exquisite focus that extreme pain brings. My leg muscle started to rip like paper, the blood running down my skin – I gripped the targ by its jaw, my hands prying between its teeth. I may have screamed as I pulled. There was a POP as its mouth dislocated, a YELP when the creature realized that it’s bite was done – and a SNAP as I twisted it’s head clean around. Ariennye bandaged my wound. The first chamber was large, dominated by a metal statue. A giant being with a Klingon’s head ridges, but none of our other features… the inscription read “Molor”. Molor the tyrant, bane of Kahless. Kahless and his wife faced the mad emperor, and after slaying 500 warriors, killed the man, sending him to Gre’thor, and founding the Klingon Empire. Molor, who torments the dishonored dead. But there was some kind of heat, an energy coming from the statue. I exhaled, placing my hand upon the metal, and cleared my mind – ''We’re aboard a ship, the head of a fleet. They were Klingon ships, but older than any I’d ever seen. I wasn’t myself, but someone else… standing at the right hand of a being I knew to be Molor… but unlike I had seen him. This was no Klingon… this was some other strange being. ICONIAN is the word that echoed in my head, an Iconian leading a Klingon fleet into battle. '' ''We sailed for an ORANGE and BLACK nebula, and there was a feeling on my skin, a cold… the Crystalline Entities. Molor was leading us to defeat the great evil… '' ''Now I was on the surface of Qo’noS. I know the stars above my homeworld, even if the buildings were older than anything that survived. A shuttle lifted into orbit, and I reached out with an arm… I knew in my blood that it was my brother fleeing the planet, but it wasn’t Khaegor that fled Qu’noS, it was Azaram… These are the memories of a stranger, and yet I know my own blood… '' ''I know these black crags. The mountains of R’am, the rocky edges of a raw, unsettled Gamma Trianguli. Blood was splashing against the stone and ash, a wild eyed man before me. Bat’leth in hand, we were fighting to the death. In my heart I called this man Brother, but I knew his face… Kahless the Unforgettable…. '' Nezzak was there to catch me as I pitched to the side. He said it was moments, but for me… The next tunnel saw us faced with four soldiers. We knew time was of the essence – I charged the men like a raging saber cat. Ariennye slit one of their throats before they knew they were under attack; Nezzak had a very professional slap chop that knocked a man’s weapon right out of his hand. I practically sliced the third’s head off… Nezzak struck the fourth unconscious. Before we moved on, I went to crush the man’s throat with my boot. He could wake up, and it is foolish to leave a possible enemy alive. Nezzak, however, stopped me. Right there in the cavern, he made an impassioned plea to my compassion: “How could we kill an unarmed man and claim to be honorable men?” “How could we leave an enemy at our back and call ourselves warriors?” I countered. “I didn’t realize warriors had cause to fear a beaten man”. He was right – there was no honor in killing a fallen man, and any retribution he could bring was his vengeance, by right. I stepped off the unconscious man’s windpipe. Which is when Ariennye moved to finish the job. I’m not sure why I didn’t expect tension between the Romulan and Vulcan, but they were almost at each other’s throats in moments – Nezzak as good as fitting himself for a casket. Ariennye’s brutal practicality and Nezzak’s Federation dogma couldn’t have been more at odds… in the end, she slit the unconscious man’s throat, and I believe Nezzak called her a “bitch”. I’m not sure what the human word means, but she left a blade quivering a breath from the Vulcan’s cheek. We moved through some fumes, and killed more men. Overhearing their conversation, we learned that Qo’Tat was close to his goal; we were running out of time. The next chamber was smaller than the first. The statue in the center of the room matched the first, but I knew it instantly: Kahless. And yet, investigating the plinth, there was a name… “Morath”. Nezzak informed us that there was a secret something underneath our feet. I found the edge of a door that we could tell had been recently opened. I heaved, and followed suit. Inside was a body. Nezzak was able to date it around 10,000 years old, and almost certainly Klingon. The head was missing, as were a number of organs. I approached the ancestor, gripping one of its ribs- ''I was standing in the same room, but when it was new. The walls were covered in elaborate murals that had all but faded away. The familiar story of two brothers battling across the cosmos… but different. Morath not as the villain but as… a hero. Morath at Molor’s side as they sailed into glorious battle against the Entities. The fleet returning, broken, and Morath standing up for the men. Standing up for the right of the Klingon to choose their own destiny. Molor not as an Emperor… but as our God. The Creator of us, and other races – I saw Morath hunted across the stars, pursued by Klingons but also a wild, primitive kind of Vulcan. '' ''Kahless was sent after his brother, still a loyal servant of Molor. The two brothers engaged on the Mountain of R’am, this very place, but Kahless was not the victor. Morath defeated his brother, but did not kill him: he offered Kahless a place at his side, two Klingon hearts to overthrow the Gods. '' ''But every image of Morath spoke the bigger lie: our vision of Kahless is actually his brother. The False Emperor is not only a deceptive clone, but isn’t even a clone of Kahless. The man I’ve seen in my visions… Morath, the first rebel, and not Kahless, the father of Klingon Honor. I no longer know what to believe. '' I take the rib. Physical proof. In the next tunnel we found a stash of high powered grenades, and not much time. We detected five human signals, clustered together around the next bend. Hostages, survivors of the attack on the colony – A trap. Ariennye knew the ploy instantly, but Nezzak and I were just slow enough. Micomines sprung up around, and our bodies were buffeted by dozens of flaming fists… Smoking and battered, we made the door to the last chamber. With Nezzak’s scans we knew we were facing 58 Klingon warriors, and a fissure in the chamber meant their ships were slowly beaming them out. Which also meant that the Ku’VoKahless might be able to finally catch our signal. Ariennye turned the bombs from grenades into bunker busters. Nezzak rigged the stolen radio to emit a high pitch frequency, stunning our opponents. I drew my bat’leth, and opened the door. Whatever secret this chamber had held, it would keep; the statue was destroyed, it’s plinth reading “Kahless”. The face of the Unforgettable, forgotten. There were more pressing concerns. I confronted Qo’Tat– perhaps our old acquaintance would matter for something. He wore what I could only assume was the long searched for artifact – armor of red and black. Unlike any armor I’d ever seen before, it must have belonged to Kahless. Seeing such a relic desecrated by someone has impure as Qo’Tat pushed me over a line. I was bleeding from a dozen wounds already, practically stumbling on one leg… but when the man charged me, I did not shrink. His men gave us the room – I was still a son of their house, and they would not fight Qo’Tat’s battle. This would be an honorable duel… to the death. Ariennye planted the bombs. Without a need for crowd control, Nezzak returned to the Quv, Lieutenant Allen reporting trouble with the Klingon ships. Ariennye knew what was demanded of my Klingon honor, and returned to her fighter to assist in space. General Qo’tat. Drank my father’s blood wine and called him friend. Who now called my brother master… the armor made him almost untouchable, while I took many glorious wounds. Many wounds. My bat’leth grew slick with blood, mine and his, but I would not yield. He ordered his men back to their ships, and I knew that Nezzak would be fighting for his life. As were we all. Bat’leth on bat’leth, our weapons rang out like the bells of war. Two warriors locked in even combat can make a deadly kind of music. I would say I was lulled into a trance – ''On this wall was once was a mural of Kahless’ battle at three turn bridge. One man against an army… the birth of a legend. Or a lie? '' ''Kahless’ shadow, reaching out to Boreth. Telling his followers that he would one day return… truth, or misdirection meant to keep the bolmaq bleating in the fields… … My distraction almost cost me the fight, and my life. With the room empty, Qo’tat drew a blaster – a Romulan weapon, almost sure to be set to kill. His shots punched like searing blades, and I could taste blood in my mouth like hot iron. “''Get up little Azaram”.'' I could hear his voice, my brother. Not the monster, just the boy. “''Sto’Vo’Kor isn’t for little brothers who bleed in the dirt. '' ''It is for little brothers who never give up.” '' I put everything I had left into my attack. I could feel blackness creeping into my vision, my body putting everything it had left into one, glorious strike. I planted my bat’leth into Qu’Tat’s face. I could feel the cartilage of his nose split, the bones of his face shatter, and my follow through almost ripped his head from his shoulders. Perhaps now, his hunger for pain was satisfied. Qo’Tat was dead at my feet – the honorable death of a dishonorable man. I took his head, and stripped the body of the holy armor. When the Quv Vo’Kahless beamed me aboard, the Qi was crippled, a burning hulk hanging in space. The other ship had been disabled as well, it’s throat exposed, ready to die. When we hailed them, I’m sure they did not expect to see me still alive, or wearing the armor. Considering my wounds, I must have looked like a demon, returned from the dead. I told them who I was, and what I stood for. I lifted Qo’Tat’s head into view, his blood still dripping to the floor. I offered the crew of the ToQ Vo’Khaegor a choice: join the Red Path in returning the Empire to greatness… or die glorious deaths. We now number 215 Klingon warriors, almost all of whom follow the Red Path. Of the 250 Federation refugees, many are beginning to see The Way. We have a second ship, though I find her name repugnant. That will have to be resolved. In her databanks, we discover part of my brother’s plan. At least 5000 Birds of Prey traveled in this advance guard, and even now they’ve spread out, bringing havoc and death to the Federation. The ancient tactic of strike and fade… classic Klingon strategy, meant to break an enemy’s spine, and their spirit. Their focus seems to be the Talarian Republic, though who knows what the next phase of my brother’s plan might be. An Empire built on a lie. A war built on greed. I may be walking the Red Path, but from where I stand, it still disappears into the dark.